


Crook

by shipwreckblue



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Archivist Michael Shelley, Entity Swap, Gen, Jon (The Distortion), Spiral!Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21797005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipwreckblue/pseuds/shipwreckblue
Summary: There was a new door in the archives.Gift for the Piles of Nonsense RQ Secret Santa 2019! Request was Jon & Michael, roleswap. Hope you enjoy!
Comments: 9
Kudos: 173
Collections: Rusty Quill Secret Santa 2019





	Crook

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blooddrool](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blooddrool/gifts).



There was a new door in the Archives. 

At least, Sasha had never noticed the door before. She considered herself a fairly observant person, a necessary quality for somebody in her line of work, and it would be an odd thing if she’d simply passed over this door in her mind for the past couple of months, not registering its presence or purpose. Still, it would be a hell of a prank, installing a new door in the wall next to the single occupancy bathroom, totally innocuous and unassuming. 

It was probably a janitorial closet, Sasha reasoned, and went back to her follow-up on the Leanne Denikin statement. 

Days passed without incident. Nobody else seemed surprised to discover that an ambiguous new entryway had spontaneously spawned into the wall of their basement department, not even Michael, and their Head Archivist had been giving any stray paperclip the side-eye lately. Sasha used the restrooms upstairs, telling herself they were cleaned more often, which was technically true. Everyone else, as far as she could tell, had no confusion about which door downstairs was which.

On Thursday, Martin spilled an entire mug of tea over his trousers. “Shit!” A milky puddle slowly soaked into the carpet below his desk. Sasha had never heard him curse before. 

“Are you all right?” she called across the office. 

“Yeah,” he grumbled in reply, standing and shaking tea off of his wet hands. “At least it was cold. Christ, I think Michael might cry over this one- Some of it got on that file from the guy who claims he was alive in the 1700s.” 

“That paper’s old as dirt,” Tim pointed out diplomatically, passing him a box of tissues. “There’s probably worse than tea stains on there.” 

“Yeah, well. This is exactly why I thought we were trying to digitize,” Martin sighed, trying to dab the desk and files clean. “Some of these statements are proper artifacts themselves, they’re too easy to damage-” 

“Don’t finish that thought, or we’ll end up with a policy against open drinks in the Archive,” Sasha warned him. “Here, give that to me.” 

“God, you’re probably right.” Martin gave her a rueful smile and passed her the statement, along with the tissue box. “Hang on, I’m gonna get some towels for the floor.” 

Sasha nodded, and then glanced up, perhaps out of instinct. If he wanted the bathroom, he wasn’t choosing the right door. “Oh- Martin, I don’t think that’s-” 

“Huh,” said Martin, as the door creaked open, peering inside. It swung inward, Sasha noticed, which was particularly unusual for the cramped storage closet she’d been imagining. “Hey, guys- Come have a look at this.” 

“What is it?” Tim asked, raising an eyebrow in interest. 

“Martin,” Sasha said cautiously, feeling an odd static start to creep up the length of her spine. “Maybe you shouldn’t-” 

“No, hang on, there’s just-” He took two steps inside, and then- it was impossible, but- the door rammed itself shut like the mouth of a Venus Fly Trap. Part of Martin’s jumper even caught in the jamb. 

Sasha shouted, “Martin!” at the same time Tim exclaimed, “Fucking hell!” She turned to look at him, mostly for confirmation of what she had just witnessed, yet by the time Sasha turned back to the wall- it was impossible- There was only one door to the restrooms. 

Tim moved before she did, striding over to the door still present and throwing it open. When he called out for Martin, Sasha could hear his voice echo within the tile-lined chamber. He called again- “Martin!” and then paused, listening intently, like they might be able to hear him through the wall. Which made about as much sense as the rest of what just happened, Sasha thought dazedly. She stood up and moved in the opposite direction, towards the Head Archivist’s office, and realized too late as she turned the handle that Michael’s office door had always had a knob. 

She jumped back as if it had burned her, but still the passage swung open, almost eagerly. Whatever Sasha had expected, even subconsciously, it wasn’t this- The door simply lead to Michael’s office, except it wasn’t Michael’s office, because he wasn’t there, and also Michael’s desk wasn’t supposed to be in the center of the room, and the walls weren’t supposed to be that damp. It looked like there had been some kind of water damage to the plaster, the paint peeling, molding in some of the corners- Sasha covered her face with one hand as the smell rolled out and hit her, something sweaty, aged and unpleasant. There was a mirror on the opposite wall that didn’t belong, hanging crooked, and Sasha’s heart spasmed in her chest when she realized the crooked shape within was no reflection but something carefully beginning to climb out of it. 

At first, it was only a shape, twisted and unrecognizable, but as more and more of it drew itself from the plane of the mirror it began to form into something humanoid, uncomfortable now in its closeness to the human form while stubbornly lacking enough accuracy. The head and shoulders seemed mostly correct, but the limbs were long and spindly- the fingers especially were too sharp, with too many joints. And yet Sasha had to accept that somehow, this hellish creature was also wearing a black turtleneck, and- were those reading glasses? Yes, with a spiraling chain that draped around the thing’s spindly neck. 

Despite these observations, Sasha still jumped when it spoke, badly startled. “Hello,” it said mildly, sounding for all the world as if it were a posh university librarian who’d gotten turned around in one of the corridors. “You must be my replacement.” 

“Your… Replacement-?” Sasha repeated, feeling as if her voice sounded very small and dull beside the ringing, echoing baritone of whatever, whoever this thing was. 

“Surely they must have replaced me. There’s practically no Archive without the Assistants,” said the entity, and while Sasha did not register it moving, it was suddenly closer. 

“I don’t- who are you? Or, or what are you?” She took a step back. 

The entity sighed, and it sounded like static. “I was in love once,” it said wistfully. 

“That’s not an answer,” Sasha replied staunchly, digging her nails into her palms to ground herself. 

“Is it? Well, it’s the best I can do. You ask hard questions, Sasha James. They have hard, blunt edges. You’ll have to forgive me for the way I navigate.” 

“Why did you say I was here to replace you?” They were backing out into the main archive now, the figure curling its way after her. 

It seemed to consider her question for a minute. “Every once in a while,” it said finally, “You could say I’m Jonathan.”


End file.
